as both titans peeled their lips back in a display of aggression.
Tauran’s blood ran cold. He staggered back when Ibi-shao raised her wings, a deafening roar bellowing out of her. Excellor responded, their joined cries so loud Tauran was forced to clamp his hands over his ears, half-running to clear the massive beasts gearing for a fight.
Excellor charged.
The two titans collided with the force of an earthquake. Chest slamming against chest, they rose to their hind legs, wings fanning out behind them, beating to gain the upper hand. Their open jaws slammed into each other, serrated teeth striking scales, claws dragging welts through flesh. Ibi-shao’s scythe tail swiped by Tauran’s body only feet from where he stood, impacting the side of a building. The facade crumbled like a house of cards, and Tauran leaped aside to avoid the bricks and wooden beams slamming to the ground. He darted for cover, his own gasped breaths loud in his ears, and he flinched when his back hit a wall under a half-broken awning. People ran past him, bumping into him, screaming for help, but Tauran couldn’t tear his eyes off the titans.
Excellor closed his teeth around Ibi-shao’s front leg and tore. Ibi-shao cried out in pain and frustration when he pulled her off balance and tossed her against the medical university building, the white sandstone columns framing the entrance crumbling to dust. She twisted and sank her teeth into Excellor’s shoulder, curling in her wings to drag her wing claws down his chest, then flapped them to gain the upper hand. She jumped into the air, but Excellor’s jaws around her tail stopped her short and she cried out, her right wing striking a bell tower that collapsed like a house of cards. They could tear Valreus apart. There were people in those buildings.
The sirens blared again.
Tauran tore his eyes from the dragons to the surrounding scene. The square was empty. The people had fled. A few dead soldiers littered the ground near the platform. The rest had either fled too, or retreated to the council building. Sorcha caught a guard’s shoulder and tossed him off the platform. A rifle shot was followed by Sorcha’s cry when the bullet tore a hole in the membrane of her wing. She kicked off the wooden beams and into the air.
A shadow fell over Tauran, and he only had a moment to react before the two titans came crashing down. Ibi-shao’s neck slammed into the ground where Tauran had stood a moment before, Excellor’s jaw clamped around her throat. She kicked against him, Excellor’s blood dyeing her claws a deep red. Tauran was on the ground, shimmying backward until he hit a fallen beam. The dragons were so close, the heat of their breaths scalded his skin. Ibi-shao strained, trying to curl her deadly tail between their bodies, but Excellor had her pinned. Staggering back to his feet, Tauran climbed backward over the beam, tripped and righted himself. He reached for his pistol. If he could shoot Excellor through the eye, he could save her.
Awful memories flashed through Tauran’s mind. Itana’s screams. Andreus’ Sylvexes clamping on her throat. He’d shot Sylvexes through the eye and murdered an innocent dragon.
Another roar pierced the air, quieter, but no less menacing.
“Stop! Please!” Emilian’s voice.
Tauran whipped around. His heart skipped. Roric’s dragon, Valeron, shone in the light of the countless gas lamps lining the square. Beneath him, Sorcha squirmed, her head and neck pinned to the ground by Valeron’s razor claws. She looked so small compared to him, blood a stark red against her gold-speckled fawn scales. Catria tore herself from the saddle, fell and staggered to her feet, then lunged at Valeron, but Roric’s pistol aimed at her head made her stop.
“Please, don’t hurt them, please!” Emilian’s voice broke, terror lacing every word. He stumbled to the edge of the platform, but soldiers rushed up the stairs and kicked the backs of his legs, bringing him to his knees. The sound of bone hitting wood was awful, but he hardly seemed to notice, expression twisted by sheer desperation.
Rage ignited in Tauran. He gripped his pistol and aimed at Roric. His partner. His friend. He swallowed, hesitated.
A second too long. The cold metal of a gun pressed against the back of Tauran’s neck. “Drop your weapon, son.” Falka’s voice was calm and gentle and Tauran hated it, hated it so much he thought he’d choke on it. Slowly, he lowered his weapon.